


Hummingbird

by Sundiver



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, BAMF John, BAMF Stiles, Creature Sheriff, Creature Stiles, Dubious Morality, Foursome - M/M/M/M, Moral Ambiguity, Morally Ambiguous Stiles Stilinski, Morally Amniguous Everyone, Multi, Platonic Soulmates, Romantic Soulmates, Sheriff Stilinski's Name is John, Soul Bond, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates, Werewolf Mates, Werewolf Politics
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-08
Updated: 2018-06-15
Packaged: 2019-05-19 17:27:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14878151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sundiver/pseuds/Sundiver
Summary: Stiles finds himself in a rare polyamorous mating, with not one, not two, but three soul mates. And all three of them are werewolves, all three of them are at least twice his age, and – what the F were you thinking, Fate?! To top it all, he and his dad had been keeping their shifter status from the werewolves of Beacon Hills for ages. And now, Stiles finds himself in the unenviable position to be able to save one of his soul mates from a Hunter clan gone rogue, and Derek’s soul mate from getting the Bite without consent on the prize of revealing who he is and what he is. Well, he always wanted to show a big middle finger to the wolves anyway… Things in Beacon Hills are about to go up in flames, literally, cos Stiles is very fond of blowing shit up. Also – literally.





	1. Part 1. What happens when Stiles goes berserk on your ass

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Love-Letters in the Form of Dresses](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14120175) by [Whispering_Sumire](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Whispering_Sumire/pseuds/Whispering_Sumire). 



> Preface  
> Hi, guys! I’m finally back – sort of – after dealing with a severe writer’s block and some real life shit, but I’m back. Thank you all, who read, liked, commented and supported my other fics. You guys and gals are the best and thank you so very much for your patience!  
> About me – being back. I’m back to writing again. Unfortunately for all of you guys who I left waiting – and I’m so very sorry for that! - I’m not back with the next chapter of Stiles’ Lemonade. Unfortunately, I’m still “blocked” on this one. I fully intend to continue and to finish it, I really love that fic, not only because it was my first real attempt, but because you, wonderful people, loved it so much. So let me assure you, Stiles’ Lemonade is by no means abandoned.  
> However I’m in a mood to write again and have the itch in my fingers and all those ideas swimming in my head that I kind of fixated on but can’t incorporate in SL. A friend of mine suggested I start a drabble series or a second fic that I can bounce between it and SL, when the inspiration for one tapers down. So – here it is. A new fic which is choppy and unpolished and much more drabble-like than SL, a new fic which I intend to come back at some later date and expand and polish, because I kind of like the ideas and the setting of it, and the main paring is something I think I like to explore in more detail, as well and the world itself – this definitely needs some more work on the world build that I put in in this… let’s call it a first draft.  
> This general idea for the fic was inspired by a Stetopher fic by the wonderful and awesome Whispering_Sumire, who is amazingly talented and I really love their works – you guys should really go check their stories, they all are amazing. The fic that started this one is called Love-Letters in the Form of Dresses and is Peter/Chris/Stiles as a main pairing. In it Stiles is a hummingbird shifter, and I simply fell in love with the idea. Hummingbirds and their erratic, incredibly fast and amazing flight abilities remind me so much of Stiles that I just can’t get it out of my head. And then I started thinking: okay werewolves have super-senses, super-strength, super-healing and their shifter abilities. What abilities a were-hummingbird would have? And I came up with the things I came up with. Those are abilities that very much resemble the abilities the mage class in World of Warcraft has. I play WoW, and so do Stiles in this fic, so I used a lot of WoW slang for his abilities names in this, which he calls his powers in and out of his head. There are mentions of other abilities of other classes from WoW cos Stiles likes to mess with his soul mates a lot in this fic. About this “pairing” – this is a poliamorous pairing in a soul-mate AU. As it says in the tags, it’s M/M/M/M where Stiles is the only romantic soul mate to three other people who are platonic soul mates to each other. I’m just in love with the idea of soul mates and mates in general, so I won’t probably ever write something that is not soul-mate AU, like – ever! This also is a rare pairing – Peter/Ennis/Deucalion/Stiles that I have never seen done before out of some smut A/B/O PwP universe where Stiles is a complete slut and has sex with whoever. Well, this is not PwP, and will not be – I’m still undecided if I’ll put any smut in it at all. Also, I don’t like A/B/O idea all that much, although I enjoy it occasionally if the works are well written or humorous. Stiles – being an omega – does not sit well with me. He’s like too much damsel in distress and has to be “saved” by his mighty providers. Well, not in this fic. Stiles is a serious bad-ass in this and takes no shit from anyone – his soul mates included. Neater Peter, nor Ennis are particularly good guys in this one – they are firmly in the darker spectrum of the grey moral area, and so is Deucalion, but in a different manner, so their asses will be regularly handed to them by their soul mate – just you wait and see (maniacal gleeful cackle). There is severe power imbalance from the start between each of them and Stiles, the three men are older than Stiles by fifteen to twenty years, they are rich, and in the case of Ennis and Deuc – they are alphas. So the whole thing will revolve around Stiles leveling the “play-field” and standing on relatively equal footing with his soul-mates.  
> One more thing – in this fic the Sheriff’s name is John. In my head cannon, John Stilinski is an awesome dad. Also in my head cannon, Noah Stilinski is a… mediocre at best (despite that he tries) father. So there. This version of the Sheriff is the awesome one.  
> Also, Stiles swears a lot. And by a lot I mean a fuck-ton. Actually everybody swears a lot, but especially Stiles, so this alone deserves the explicit rating.

Nothing ever happens in Beacon County. It’s peaceful, it’s picturesque, it’s rural Northern California, with the Preserve and the quiet town of Beacon Hills, situated somewhere in the middle of the county. It’s also the territory of the esteem and powerful Hale pack, and it’s under the protection of the most powerful (probably) and most venerated (certainly) Alpha in the United States, one Talia Hale. Nothing ever happens in Beacon Hills. The wolves make sure of that – they protect and tend to their territory. It’s the idyllic place to live, if you are in the know, that is. Ask anyone!

 

***

Stiles didn’t noticed if his Dad’s cruiser was parked in the driveway or not. He was in too much pain to register anything and was focused entirely - and only - on his goal to get to his house, his room and his bed before the inevitable happened. He had lost any semblance of cool the moment Ennis teeth pierced his side ten minutes ago. Because of his bleeding side, he couldn’t shift and fly away, which meant he had to blink his way out this cluster fuck in his human form. Great! Just great! There was a very big chance he would pass out from blood loss even before he got home, or even before the bite fail kicked in. He lost the last semblance of his mental shields and scent blockers approximately five minutes ago, which meant his soul mate could not only feel the pull of the accidental mate bond, but he could also track Stiles down by scent. Between one _blink_ and the next Stiles had checked his soul mark, and – yep – there it was, the Black symbol added to his soul mark. FUCK. That meant that the Black symbol was added to the Hale’s and the Blackwood’s soul marks as well. Which meant they would find out they were in a poly mate bond and also who Stiles was within an hour.

He was going to kill his soul mates! One was a conniving bastard, one was a brainless brute, and one was an idealistic idiot! And all three had the all-encompassing superiority complex of being “an apex predator” – read werewolves. Stiles cursed all werewolves and their high and mighty attitude, and their snobbery, and looking down on any other supernatural, but most of all, he cursed himself - for his stupidity and his soft heart. It was he who decided to save Deucalion from Gerard’s slaughter. It was he who decided to save Paige from Derek Hale’s idiocy.

And now, as a result, he outed not only himself as a supernatural being, but his father as well. Talia Hale would be knocking at their door with her high and mighty werewolf demands in the next morning at the latest! Stupid, stupid, stupid! From the four of them HE was the biggest idiot – for caring about people who would never view him for anything but prey, and less, and lacking. He refused to consider himself stupid, however, for wanting – and having the guts – to bring the high and mighty Argent Empire down. No one was allowed to fuck with his family, especially a Hunter.

Because the whole brewery fiasco? Yeah, it was life-streamed – from all six cameras he studiously installed in the building beforehand - not only to the Hunter’s Tribunal, but to the Packs’ High Council and the Magic Assembly as well. There was _no way_ Gerard Argent could get away with this one.

Stiles had seconds before passing out from the Bite fail. He needed to _blink_ only three times, though, he could manage. One _blink_ – and he was in the foyer, skipping the forty-something feet from his front door. Second _blink_ and he was upstairs, skipping the stairwell entirely. He could probably manage to _blink_ directly into his room, but decided not to risk it and play safe. Last _blink_ and he was face-planting in his bed, at the same time the blackness finally overtook him.

***

Peter Hale wasn’t in full blown panic attack for two reasons. One, the Krasikeva girl didn’t have a soul mark – same as Derek – so she couldn’t be his – _theirs –_ soul mate. Two, the appearing of Ennis Black soul mark next to the original one they all had finally, finally answered the question if he was sharing a mate with his best friend/big brother and the annoying Blackwood, or the three of them had soul mark malfunction.

When the three of them went to Satomi Ito with their shared problem – _why_ their soul marks looked so familiar, the malfunction was the more probable possibility. Because sharing a mate without being mated to one another was an extremely rare case of poliamorous soul bond. One in a hundred years rare. Oh, they would be all mated in the end, but only after the reveal of their _romantic_ soul mate. Peter Hale, Ennis Black and Deucalion Blackwood apparently had been destined to be platonic soul mates, sharing a romantic one and the poliamory was preventing the mark to appear in its completion.

Peter was definitely panicking, though, because Ennis was supposed to give the Bite to Derek’s girlfriend about an hour ago, and apparently, he either had bitten someone else by mistake, or had bitten a second person beside Paige… Which was yet another problem. Biting Paige without consent was a huge issue by itself, but could be dealt with, swept under the proverbial rug – and Peter was ready and willing to use all his, admittedly, substantial influence to get his best friend off the hook.  Biting two people without consent, however, would look like feral behavior and Ennis would most probably would be facing a death sentence from both the Tribunal and the Council, if not for the small fact one of the bitten apparently was Ennis soul mate. The situation was far from easily salvageable, though, and Ennis would be facing years of scrutiny by both governing institutions, may be even three, if the magic users decided to but in as well.

Peter looked down at his arm above his wrist and wondered for the millionth time what type of bird the soul mark he was born with was. It was black silhouette of the bird in flight, seen from bellow, or may be above? It might be a stork or a crane, but the neck was far too short. It might be a raven, or a crow, or even a hawk – if not for the long, long beak. Which meant it was most probably kingfisher or woodpecker. Peter cringed of the idea of someone with the personality of a woodpecker, although, soul marks rarely represented a whole personality, they usually represented a characteristic or personal trait. Anyway, Peter was not ready to be romantically involved with someone who had a woodpeckerish trait in their character. He could only imagine what it would mean. Probably constant nagging.

So Peter was panicking. And the waves of distant explosions didn’t help Peter’s mental state – the only saving grace in this was that the explosions and the sirens were all coming from the town, not the Preserve or the Industrial District, where the brewery was situated. What the fucking fuck had happened to turn the quiet town into a literal war zone in a spawn of an hour?

***

It took Deucalion Blackwood an hour to come back to his senses enough to digest what actually had happened and pars what had transpired in that God forsaken meeting. He played the scene over and over and over in his head just to put all the pieces in to focus, to comprehend it all, to piece it all together. Whatever happened was happening so incredibly _fast_.

Gerard had just killed two of own hunters with the club – apparently to look like werewolf’s kills, proclaiming that he was going to war with all werewolves and this is what happens to those who want piece with monsters. Deuc was so stunned, so incredulous of what was happening that he just stood there, frozen, uncomprehending, mouth agape, watching in paralyzed horror Gerard pulling out a gun and pointing it at one of Deuc’s betas – the other two hunters, loyal to Gerard doing the same, and then…

It was like pinball. That was what it was like. A ball, shot by a spring, and hitting various objects on the pinball table with incredible speed and velocity. It was something, no, _someone_ , incredibly fast, using all the power of the velocity they could master - and _slammed_ into the beta that was about to die – forcing her out of the way of the bullet, bounced of her straight unto another beta, body-slamming him hard, bounced off the beta and slammed into Deuc himself. The Alpha felt not only the light body, slamming into him, the speed giving it the needed power to dislodge the werewolf out of the path of the bullet aimed at him. He also felt the _thug_ in his face and hair like some was traying to rip his hair out of his scalp, or probably scalping him _by pulling his hair_ , and there was a sensation like a rug burn, or may be gravel burn, something scraping, almost clawing at his entire face… and it all happened in a matter of millisecond and the thing was bouncing away of him toward another beta, leaving… leaving… leaving a military grade gas-mask behind, firmly attached to Deuc’s face. The thing had put a gas-mask on him in matter of nano-seconds! It hurt, but Deuc was grateful, so incredibly grateful, because of what had happened afterwards…

Even before the first bullet hit the wall of the brewery, Deuc was slammed into three more times, so were the betas, and somehow his ears were ringing by someone shouting in his ear “wolfesbane in the air, run!”, and he couldn’t register _when_ exactly he had time to hear those words, when there was time for those words to be screamed in his ear – because everything happened _between_ the pull of the trigger and the first bullet hitting the wall. And somehow there were bullets flying from their side as well, one for each hunter, hitting them in the knee-caps and dropping them down – and he had no idea when those bullets came from, had no idea when were they fired… All he knew was that his left ear-drum was probably punctured by a … loud youngishly sounding male voice yelling from the top of his lungs directly in his ear. So he turned tail and run.

Five minutes and couple of miles away in Beacon Hills Preserve later Deucalion was trying to calm down himself and his four hysterical betas, who were shaken to the core by what had happened, and absent-mindedly examining the _five_ gas-masks that were forced upon them during the pin-balling _thing_.

Someone had known this will happen. Someone had time to prepare a plan and the means to save them. And this _someone_ wanted to stay anonymous, because Deuc could not find a single hint of scent trail on the masks the person had put on then. The obvious answer was a magic user but for the life of him, Deucalion couldn’t think of a type of a magic user _capable_ of what their savior _had_ done. It was a mystery, and it bugged the Hell out of him.

And then the explosions started. Explosions downtown. What the actual fuck!

It was about half an hour later, the five of them still yelling and growling at each other, when the roar came. The roar that had shaken the entire town and probably was heard in a fifty mile radius. Ennis roar. _What the actual fuck was going on?!? -_ was the only thing Deucalion had time to think when the searing pain bloomed in his arm, encompassed his entire body and brought him down to his knees.

Deuc promptly wolfed out, clawed out the sleeve of his shirt and gaped incredulously in his soul mark… which had a new adage to it. The Black symbol. What the fucking fuck his brother had done? Found the soul mate they evidently shared, courted him like _half an hour_ and given him the mating bite??? What the actual fuck was going on???

***

For the life of him, Ennis Black could not concentrate enough to parse what had happened with the litany of curses going through his head – a litany coming through his mate bond – _he had a mate bond what the fuck!_ – from his soul mate – _he had found his soul mate and bitten him, what the fuck!_ – and he just was lumbering aimlessly through the streets of Beacon Hills, trying to follow the ripped, jagged, shattered scent trail left behind by his mate. Oh my fucking God, he was only supposed to give the Bite to Peter’s nephew’s girlfriend!

“Don’t you worry, Brother, all you have to do is bite her” Peter had said, “I’ll take care of the rest. I assure you, I have enough blackmail material on the Council members to get you off the hook on the consent issue. And Talia won’t go any further than giving you a stern talking to, you’re a big boy, you can handle _that_ much. You don’t have to worry about it, I’ll take care of everything. And when Derek mates with the girl, we will have a strong pack alliance, not just an _armistice_. Our packs will be family. Just keep quiet and don’t let Deuc know what we are planning. We don’t want to sabotage his peace treaty, do we? Just imagine it – strong alliance of all Californian packs, an _armistice_ _with_ the Hunters, and Talia and Satomi’s political faction will become a minority. A new era for all the werewolves of California, the whole country even. Just _imagine_ all the States following our example! Imagine all the power, imagine all the influence we will have…”

In Ennis’s opinion, one thing can be said about Peter Hale, his best friend, he was ambitious. Incredibly ambitious. And he had the means to achieve his goals too.

And now – this! Ennis power, Peter’s influence, Deucalion’s vision – all reduced to dust in the blink of an eye. By an incredibly beautiful honey-colored, big eyed boy with a creamy soft skin, and beauty marks, who, apparently couldn’t stop cursing his soul mates and werewolves in general in his head.

_Fucketyfuckfuckfuck that hurts, fucking conniving idiot and fucking brainless idiot and fucking idealistic idiot and their fucking superiority complex! Fuckity fuck fuck, I going to pass out! Fuck! And I can’t fucking shift, because one of my fucking mates is a fucking idiot who will go with everything that the other fucking fucker suggests and the other fucking fucker is so blind that would try to make peace with the fucking Argents! Fuck this shit! Ten more blinks! Just ten more! I can see my house now! Just ten more! Fuck! I hate my powers! Couldn’t I get something cool like a bubble, or a death grip or why not damn polymorph, or a fucking ice block or something? Couldn’t I get a nice little heal? No! I got settled with the fucking blink and the fucking time-warp! Mages suck donkey balls, man, fuck mages, and fuck werewolves and fuck hunters and soul mates! Fucking fuck! Ten more blinks!_

The voice in Ennis head was loud and clear, and Ennis was doing everything in his power to keep the mental link open, no matter how hard his soul mate was trying to shut the connection down. The boy had managed to close the connection enough to block Ennis from his senses – looking through his eyes, hearing through his ears. Even now the little shit was trying to push Ennis out of his mind and slam the door of the mate bond denying Ennis the link to him. Ennis Black, however, was strong, _very_ strong and not only physically, but mentally as well, but moreover, he knew when to let the wolf to take reigns and when to keep him leashed.

The moment he tasted the mate blood on his tongue he knew he needed to let the wolf out. And his wolf didn’t let him down. The Beast latched to the Bite, and forced with all its might all the way through the boy’s mental defenses and _formed_ the bond the boy clearly didn’t want – judging by the strength he fought back the wolf. Jesus, his little mate was strong minded! The moment his wolf stormed in the boy’s mind every nook and cranny, every aspect, every _door_ , was _slammed_ with such force in the wolf’s face. Access to his mate’s senses – denied. Access to his mate’s core identity – denied. Access to his mate’s subconscious – denied. Access to his mate’s memories – denied. The only reason Ennis’s wolf manage to sneak through the slit before the last door closed and he was thrown out of his mate’s mind is because he played the Fate card. Fate had chosen this boy for him. For them. For Ennis, for Deucalion and for Peter. The boy was not strong enough to fight Fate. So he slammed into his mate’s thoughts, and latched into them trying desperately to solidify the mate bond up to the point the boy wouldn’t be able to get away from them.

The first thought he heard from his mate was a maniacal cackle and a _Good luck with the ADHD you flees-bitten-carpet-rug!_ And then the boy ignored the snarling wolf demanding it mate’s attention. All the wolf could do was to hold on with teeth and claws to the flood of thoughts and try desperately not to lose the connection with his soulmate for long enough to secure the accidental mate bond into something permanent. Because Ennis would be Damned if he let his mate slip through his fingers after all this time.

It felt like trying surviving in a middle of a landslide. Thought and emotions, laud, jagged, strong and solid like boulders were bombarding him from every direction. And the sound of explosions coming from all directions didn’t help Ennis or his wolf what-so-ever. It was like the Beacon Hills Downtown had turned to some sort of war-zone. But neither Ennis nor his wolf had time to investigate _that_. Their main priority was and ever would be the bond. It was hell on their mind. It was like swimming in a sea of anger and rage and frustration. But Ennis was determined to not let go even after the bond was secured, hoping to get a glimpse of the identity of his soul mate.

And then the landslide seized abruptly. So abruptly that it left the Alpha reeling.

The only logical explanation was that his mate had lost consciousness, which was a disturbing thought. His mate could be rejecting the Bite, and this was a thought Ennis refuse to acknowledge. His would not let his mate die of bite rejection! Considering the hand Fate lend him however while he tried to capture his mate into the bond, he thought this wouldn’t be the case. Fate wouldn’t have come to his aid, wouldn’t answer his plea, if the boy was about to die. Moreover, from what he had seen, his mate was some bazar type of supernatural, which meant that the bite would most probably fail without killing the boy. That didn’t mean however that the kid would not be severely sick until his body was dealing with it. Even if Ennis lost his mate tonight, all he had to do was to keep his ear to the ground and listen the local gossip about some youth suddenly fallen ill. And furthermore, as soon as his mate manage to return to consciousness, even if he was feverish and sick and delirious, even if he managed somehow to block the mate bond, the bond was solid now and unbreakable and it would give Ennis the sense of general direction where his mate was at that moment – if nothing else. And that was enough. He would track the boy down, he would hunt his mate like the wolves of old in the mating runs from centuries ago, and he would enjoy the hunt immensely!

The Alpha shook his massive head to shake the sudden dizziness off and shifted back to human, his wolf finally reseeding. So many questions were swimming in his mind. What Ennis could not comprehend the most was what exactly had happened in the high school. One second he was charging toward the girl, leaping, shifted into his alpha form, fangs bared, ready to bite the terrified girl. One part of his mind had enjoyed the chase, reveled in the cruelty of running down human prey. Ennis was not necessarily ashamed of himself for it. He had never claimed being a nice guy, or even a good man. He connected with the girl, brought her down… and then something _slammed_ into both him and the girl, dislodging her from his grasp, sending her sprawled, skidding several meter on the floor, and Ennis’s fangs sank into another person, who had come from virtually nowhere.

The wolf had lost his pray, just acquire a new, much more desirable one, but then a sharp knee had connected with his groin and he lost his grip on his pray and collapsed. He had raised his head, and a murderous red Alpha glare met a honey-brown eyes, some twenty feet away, at the end of the hallway. They looked at each other and the moment the taste of the blood registered for Ennis, something else entirely register for the boy.

“You motherfucking asshole! You’re going to pay for this!” the boy had yelled at him livid and had _vanished_ into thin air. Ennis could only do one thing at this point – give chase, his previous pray forgotten.

***

The first call came just after sunset – about 5 p.m. Correction, the first five calls came after the sunset. The entire Sheriff’s department, everybody on shift responded to one of the incidents, and John Stilinski, knowing his son very well, called in all officers who were off shift. This was a long time coming. Well, long time by Stiles standards. It was actually only four weeks since the dinner at the Argent house. It was supposed to be a business dinner. Christopher Argent had been trying very hard to sway the Sherriff’s mind to giving the county arms supply deal to Argent Arms. John would had given it to him too anyways – because _reasons_ – but the abrupt appearance of one Gerard Argent, the infamous Argent patriarch and his younger daughter Kate just in time for the for-mentioned dinner made it not only impossible, but improbable.

John had taken Stiles to the dinner, the boy being classmates with Chris daughter and all. Well… Everybody know what happens when one insults Stiles’ dead mother or Stiles’ Dad. A big BOOOOOM is what happens. And Gerard and Kate had done both.

John expected, actually knowing his son’s explosive temperament – preyed – for a verbal lashing then and there, at the dinner table. Instead Stiles _calmly_ asked Gerard if he knew that Stiles had ADHD. John closed his eyes and shivered at the calm question, because this was going to be an apocalyptic level of disaster and there was no talking Stiles out of it no matter what. The question had left the whole Argent family stunned and perplexed at the non sequitur, and Gerard just had blinked at Stiles and had said that, no, he hadn’t known the boy had ADHD. Then Stiles persuaded to inform the seasoned Hunter that he, Stiles, had written a ten page report for his Economics class on the subject of history of male circumcision and was planning to do a paper on the practices of slave castration in the Ancient Egypt, Greece, Rome and the Ottoman Empire. At this point John put an end to the dinner and before Gerard managed to pars that Stiles just promised to cut his balls off for insulting Claudia, ushered them out of the house and informing Chris that unfortunately, the Sheriff’s Department won’t be dealing with Argent Arms in the foreseeable future.

And then John waited with bated breath and dread filled mind for his son’s retaliation. It took four weeks. So when a hysterical Victoria Argent called nine-one-one to report that someone had blown up her _and_ her daughter’s cars _in their garage_ , and not a minute later a call from Chris Argent came that his SUV had been blown up with some kind of explosive, John knew – this had Stiles written all over it. And when the next three calls turned up to be from some of the Argent Hunters, reporting the same thing – John knew it was only the beginning. For the next half an hour seventeen vehicles were blown up by unknown assailant, apparently the same person or the group of people according the preliminary assessment. Miraculously, no owners or bystanders had even as much as paper cut from the blasts, although about a third of the Argent residence and couple of the homes of other hunters were burned down, almost to the ground. Stiles was incredibly vindictive, but also incredibly meticulous and careful.

John had been attempting to reach his son through their flock-bond ever since the first call came, but his boy was blocking him.

And then, about forty minutes from when it all started the flock-bond suddenly exploded with anxiety and pain and distress. John dropped everything and ran. 

***

Peter Hale could hardly look away from the scene playing on the computer monitor, completely oblivious to the chaos around him. He could hardly believe of what he was seeing. That son of a bitch Gerard had killed his own people, had tried to pin the killing on the Deucalion’s delegation and then some… some… some… ghost-ninja-unknown-third player had entered the building, saved the Blackwood and his wolves, shot Gerard in the knee-caps, all the meanwhile _broadcasting_ the entire thing to any and every supernatural in the Undernet, the underground internet network for supernatural beings… and according to what was going on around him and what his sister told him… managed to blow up every possible Argent-and-associates-owned escape vehicle they could get their hands on. According to Talia, that would be seventeen – Dear Lord they blow up seventeen – cars.

The all the mundane  major news channels had picked up the story, spinning it a terrorist act, a gang war even, especially when they caught up to the fact the blown up vehicles were owned by people, closely associated with an arms dealer company, one who supplied U.S. Government institutions, like police precincts and sheriff departments. It was not only a mundane PR nightmare, because this would draw in FBI and Homeland investigation, it was a supernatural PR nightmare because this… this... this atrocity had happened on Hale land, in the heart of the Hale territory, and the entire world knew it! The Argents had suffered a severe blow – one could say with relative certainty that the Argents were completely obliterated in both the supernatural and the mundane worlds -, all Hunter clans standing in the community had suffered, a blow they would need decades to recover from, but Hale’s reputation was damaged as well! May be not as severe as the argents, but still The Hale pack and the Blackwood pack, and the Steel pack and the Black pack would be… well… the laughing stock of the were community of at least couple of years.

He glanced toward the corner where Kali and Julia was looking at the video from the brewery frame by frame, trying to find out as much as they can about this third party ninja thing.

“I have never seen anything like it!” Julia was whispering. “This is not a magic user – not a mage, nor a warlock, not a witch and most certainly not a druid! They move too fast for the cameras to capture even a non-clear image. The only thing we have is this,” she pointed at a frozen frame on the screen “when it slowed down enough to shoot at the hunters, and the only thing I get out of this is that it looks vaguely humanoid!”

“May be when Laura and Andrew bring the Blackwood delegation back we will able to get something more out of them” Kali murmured back. “Where is Ennis anyway? If he hadn’t seen this, he should have at least heard the explosions.”

And that was the big question, wasn’t it? Where the fuck was Ennis? Derek had stormed into the house not ten minutes ago, livid, on the verge of losing control and slammed the door to his room. May be it was time for Peter to visit his nephew.

***

The scent trail, as irregular and scattered it was, finally had led Ennis somewhere. It was a quiet street in the middle of Beacon Hills residential area, and he managed to narrow his search down to eight houses. The trail ended there, entering the proverbial rectangle formed by the houses, and not exiting it – Ennis checked, circling the block but no, the unknown boy had entered one of those houses and was probably still in it… There was, of course, the possibility the boy had gotten somehow into the sewers via one of the three storm drains on the street, but Ennis doubted it. He was pretty sure the boy couldn’t had gotten in without leaving a scent mark on one of the drain heavy grades. There were heart beats in all eight houses, so Ennis was not entirely sure how to proceed in checking them out when the sound of a whiling siren drew his attention, and a moment later a sheriff’s cruiser drove past him with neck-break speed, far above the required speed limit.

There was squeal of tires, the cruises halted into and abrupt stop in the middle of the street, the person inside barely managed to turn the siren off before jumping out of the cruiser – and wasn’t that a surprise, it was the sheriff himself – before running full speed to second to last house at the far end of the street, not even bothering to close the door of the cruiser, and shouting franticly “Stiles!”, before disappearing into the house.

Well… it looked like Ennis had actually found his prey after all.

The werewolf silently approached the house, looked for a nice vantage point, and after finding it, jumped on the garage roof, settling down to enjoy the show. His only regret was he didn’t have popcorn.

***

“…ile..”

“St…es!”

“Stiles!”

The frantic shaking and yelling Stiles was being subjected to was not going well with the incredible sense of nausea, roiling in his stomach. Suddenly Stiles entire body seized, he rolled over and vomited a fuckton of black goo on the floor, barely missing his father’s feet. Two strong hands held him while he wrenched and heaved, trying to expel the putridness caused by the bite from his body.

Soothing words reached his ears gradually when his normal hearing starting to return, a warm hand was massaging the back of his neck making him feel incredibly safe in his father’s arms.

“Oh, kiddo” his father softly said “what have you done?”

The question, of course was rhetorical, considering the black goo on the floor and the blood soaked shirt Stiles was wearing.

“I god bit by an alpha, obviously” Stiles grumbled anyway. His head was killing him, but at least the nausea subsided somewhat.

John Stilinski let out a heavy sigh, bud didn’t let go of his son.

“What happened, Stiles?” he asked, and Stiles realized guiltily that it was not his Dad’s _I’m-the-sheriff’_ s but his Dad’s _I-worry-so-much-about-you-kiddo_ voice.

Stiles took a deep breath and decided that full disclosure was in order seeing what he had brought on his father’s head.

“Can I have some ibuprofen or something first?” he tried to stall a bit to put his thoughts in order. “ “My head is killing me.”

John Stilinski gently helped his son back into the bed, propping him sitting in relative comfort against the head board and some pillows and went to fetch the ibuprofen and some water, along with a bucket and a mop for the floor. He knew his son, and he knew he will get his answers soon enough, he could wait until the pills took effect and the floor was relatively clean.

Two pills and a floor mopping later, John sat at his son’s bed and placed reassuring hand on his boy’s knee.

“Okay, kiddo, enough stalling” he prompted, keeping his voice gentle. “You can tell me what happened while I clear the bite wound, okay?”

Stiles suddenly panicked.

“No, Dad, wait!”

But it was too late. His father had lifted the bottom of his shirt and the t-shirt below already to reveal Stiles skin…

***

Ennis had the perfect vantage point to see everything that was happening in the room. He could also hear everything, but that was a given due to his werewolf hearing, and the open window gave him the opportunity to also smell everything.

Up to this point he hadn’t sensed anything supernatural about the Sheriff, and considering that his son had manage to mask his own scent up to the point where the pain was too much to block his natural smell, Stiles had smelled oddly human, unremarkable and unmemorable. He most certainly smelled outwardly now. And suddenly so did the Sheriff – the same familial scent of forest and wild flowers and pollen and honey he apparently shared with his son – but heavily mixed with the electric ozone smell of blind fury. And then Ennis saw what had triggered the Sheriff and his wolf went ballistic in his head. Ennis Black had never been so close to feral in his entire life than the moment he laid eyes on him mate’s blacked, bruised skin.

***

John Stilinski was not a man who one can push easily, or anger. Stiles had seen his dad that furious only two times in his life. His face turned deep shade of red and his pupils blow up engulfing his irises in a flash his eyes were two pools of midnight black. With one swift move John grabbed the shirt and t-shirt in both fists and _ripped_.

“Who!” he demanded in almost unintelligible growl “Who did this?” he demanded, eyes boring into his poor boy’s abused flesh. “Was it the wolf who bit you?! I’m going to fucking kill him!” he practically roared.

Stiles made the mistake to grab at his father’s wrists with both hand trying to calm him down and make him listen. A huge miscalculation from his part because then the Sheriff saw the new addition to his son’s soul mark – and recognized the symbol. Vicious talons sprang from nails and his head turned from light brown with graying at the temples to midnight black as well.

“I’m going to kill him!” he snarled again. “I don’t give a damn, Ennis Black will fucking die – very, very slowly!”

His father’s voice send shivers of fear trough Stiles entire body.

“No, Dad, listen, listen to me!” he tried some sort of damage control. “He didn’t touch me, I swear!”

“Didn’t touch you?!” John yelled. “He fucking _bit_ you, Stiles! Don’t tell me you consented to the mating? Is this how he gained your consent, by beating you to a pulp?!”

John was so angry he was literally spitting, saliva flying through his clenched teeth at every word.

“Dad! Stop! Stop and listen!” Stiles implored his dad “I’ll explain everything! He didn’t beat me up, no one beat me up! Those bruises are self-inflicted!”

The sheer absurdity of the statement stunned John so much that he lost his partial shift.

“Self-inflicted?” the incredulous outrage toward the obvious lie was hear loud and clear in his voice “You – what – repeatedly run into a wall or something?”

“Yes!” and Stiles sounded so relieved that his that finally got it that… wait, what?!?

“What?” the Sheriff repeated dumbfounded.

“Well, not an actual wall” Stiles babbled “Just some werewolves that were about to be shot.”

John blinked at his son, who obviously was telling the truth, only the truth wasn’t making any scenes whatsoever. He took a deep breath.

“Explain,” he ordered with his _I’m-your-dad-but-I’m-also-a-trained-professional_ voice, “clearly and succinctly, how exactly you got those bruises.”

Stiles took a deep breath.

“There were those Hunters who wanted to kill those werewolves and they shot at them so I _timewrapped_ and bodily checked the wolves out of the bullets’ trajectories.”

The Sheriff crossed his arms on his chest and looked down at his son.

“You, one hundred and forty pounds soaking wet, bodily checked some – I assume – grown-ass werewolves out of the way of some bullets? Do you honestly expect me to believe that!” he demanded.

Stiles sighed and gave up. At this point he could not avoid the incoming lecture, unless he was okay with his dad emptying his gun into one of his soul mates’ head.

“I might or might not have _blinked_ into them. While _timewarping_. To gain greater velocity,” he grumbled unhappily.

John face palmed, then looked up the ceiling, and when no apparent help, or answer, or revelation what to do with his offspring come from above, he sighed heavily.

“Son, we do not _timewarp,_ we stretch the time, and we do not _blink,_ we flash!” he exhaled exasperatedly. This World of Warcraft crap was grating on his nerves. His son had to understand that real life vastly differed from his video games. “Do you have any idea how dangerous flashing into people while time-stretching is? Just look at you! You are one giant bruise! And trust me, son, as soon as this bite wound heals up, I’m dragging you into the hospital for a full body x-ray, you hear me?”

And here was the lecture Stiles expected.

“You can have fractured and broken bones, Stiles!” John continued to rant at his boy and when Stiles opened his mouth to protest he raised a finger to silence him. “Even if your limbs work perfectly fine – which I highly doubt, considering you are one giant walking bruise right now, you can have broken ribs, or fractured collarbones or hip bones or dislocated spine, and you wouldn’t even know about it, because you hurt all over, am I right?” and when an answer didn’t follow John repeated the question more sternly “Am I right?”

Stiles head dropped.

“Yes, Dad, I hurt all over”.

John expression softened.

“Lay down, I’m going to get whatever frozen stuff we have in the fridge and see if I can find some bruise cream or something. And after we take care of you, you are telling me everything, in great detail, play by play, are we clear?”

“Yes, Sir, mister Sheriff, Sir” Stiles grumbled petulantly.

***

During the two hour long exposition, provided by the kid named Stiles which followed the Sheriff’s blowout – and this Stilinski fellow was one scary motherfucker, in Ennis’s humble opinion, the Alpha came to three very important conclusions. One: he was mated to a certifiably insane, incredibly dangerous, and absolutely out of control psychotic boy shifter of unknown origin, who liked to literally _blow_ up shit when people piss him off. With explosives. Two: His future father-in-law was just as, in not even more insane, psychotic and dangerous, who had no control whatsoever over his offspring. Or rather, he had control, but he doesn’t bother to controlling his son. Like – at all. Three: Ennis was in need of reconstructive surgery to reattach his dropped jaw, which at this point seemed permanent.

***

John Stilinski was silent for half an hour after Stiles finished his explanation, digesting everything.

He finally sighed and spoke.

“Okay, let’s see if I got this straight. You decided to follow Gerard around to find out what would be the best way to retaliate, right?”

Stiles just nodded.

“May I point out, that the slander toward me and your Mum was unintentional?” John raised one unimpressed eyebrow. His son bristled immediately.

“Fuck this shit!” was Stiles vehement response, at which point John was pretty sure that even in he scolded Stiles for his foul language, it would fall on deaf ears. Stiles was simply too worked up.

“I would have let it go if it was just about the bonded people in general, I would have let it go if it was about you, or if it was about Mom… Okay, I wouldn’t let it go entirely, but, Dad, they took away your _Second chance_!  This is something I will never, ever, in a million years forgive or forget or let go of! The only two people who get a pass on this is your bloody second soulmate – and let me tell you, I have some big reservation on this topic as well – and Allison. No one else! The Argents are going down, and that’s final!”

John was stunned speechless. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out, so he closed it, then opened it again – and closed it again. He probably resembled a goldfish.

“You know about that?” he finally croaked.

His boy dropped his eyes.

“All I want for you to be happy, Dad!” the boy mumbled quietly, almost brokenly. “Losing Mom, losing your _soul mate_ … Dad, at one point I thought I would never see you smile again!” Stiles sniffled.

“Oh, kiddo!” John Stillinski grabbed his son and pulled him into a bear hug, remembering at the last second his kid’s bruised body, and leave the hug gentle – but he so desperately needed to make his boy felt how much his father loved him. “I don’t need anyone but you to be happy” he almost whispered in his son’s hair.

Stiles gave out a wet laugh.

“Yeah, well, Fate decided you deserve a second chance to mate! You’d be fool not to take it! The chance of a second soul mark appearing after one mate is dead is like one in a billion!”

John chuckled deeply, still holding on to his boy.

“The saying is “one in a million”, kiddo” he smiled.

Stiles snorted derisively. “Yeah, and one in  a million chance rolls up every nine of ten times! This saying needs readjusting, so I updated it. So there! Besides, you can see clearly what happens when you try and fight Fate. I fought this mating shit for two years, and here’s the result – I’m mated to one of them. By “ _accident”_. If I meet Fate I’ll kick her in the boobs!” he declared and John busted out laughing.

“What!” Stiles demanded indignantly “She’s a female, I can’t kick her in the nuts, she doesn’t have balls! So boobs it is!”

John couldn’t argue with the insane logic of his boy, but Stiles went back to being serious.

“The fucking Argents stole that from you deliberately. His soul mark was _ritualistically_ burned away at birth. They are proud of what they had done, what they are doing to their children! He is fucking happily married now, he has a daughter, and _even_ , even if Fate decide to step in even further that she already did, even if by some miracle he develops attraction toward you, and overcomes the homophobia they installed in him from childhood, he will fight it tooth and nail because of his family and his daughter. He will never be with you! Gerard Fucking Argent stole your second chance of happily-ever-after, and _this_ I won’t forget! He hurt you deliberately, and you will be hurting for the rest of your life!”

John cleared his throat.

“So… you don’t mind?” he asked cautiously. Stiles pulled away from his father’s arms to look him in the eyes.

“Honestly? If it was another woman, I would have minded. But it’s a man, so it’s okay. A man can’t replace Mom, a man wouldn’t even try.”

John frowned down at his son.

“ _No-one,_ man or a woman, I repeat, _No One,_ can replace your Mother, Stiles!” he refuted the sentiment vehemently.

“Knowing something and feeling something are two different things, Dad.” Stiles argued. “I may know something, that doesn’t mean I feel it.”

John nodded. Fair – that.

“Okay, back to the matter at hand. You followed him and Kate, eavesdropped on their conversation and found out what they were planning to do on the peace talks. Then you went to eavesdrop on the wolves, right?”

“Right” Stiles conformed.

“So you overheard Peter’s plan for power-grab. Ennis bites Derek’s potential mate, she become his beta, they mate, which means close relations between the Deucalion’s faction and the Hales, and Peter’s gradually rising to power as the man who pulls the strings behind the curtain, after Deuc returns with the signed Hunter/Werewolf treaty, right?”

“Yep” Stiles popped the p, looking extremely smug for thwarting this particular plan from the get go.

John looked at his son.

“You do realize, that Paige most likely will end up with Derek, and will probably take the bite at some point, right?” he asked, and Stiles bristled again.

“That would have been her choice, Dad!” he exclaimed. “What they were doing was wrong! They went biting people with no regard of consent, without any regard to the other person’s wishes, without any respect of her body! This is like… like… It’s like a rape! No, not “like”, it is rape, Dad, pure and simple! And that asshole Derek is so used to get what he wants, typical jock, typical bully, they all are, they think themselves untouchable, think themselves superior to everyone else just because they are werewolves! Well, guess what! They are NOT! And, trust me, when I end up with the Three Stooges, I will explain it all to them in great length and detail!”

The Sheriff raised his hands in surrender.

“I’m not arguing with you, kiddo, I’m just pointing the obvious out,” he placated.

“Well, I’m also pointing the obvious out” Stiles grumbled.

“Let’s get back to you” John decided to abandon the topic, although he didn’t miss the “bully” label his son had attached to Derek Hale, and planned to revise the subject at a later date.

“So you decided to save Deucalion” he stated.

Stiles shrugged.

“He is my soul mate. One of them, anyways. I will end up with him somewhere down the line. I’m just fighting the bond thing now cos I’m fifteen, and werewolf law said mates can bond at thirteen. Well, guess what – we don’t live in Romeo and Juliette times when it was completely acceptable to get married an infancy, and women who didn’t manage to marry until they turn twenty were considered _spinsters_. This is not Victorian England, this is twenty-first century U.S., thank you very much!”

John chuckled.

“Can’t argue with you there, kid. So, you bought some gas masks, some cameras some second hand life-streaming equipment and stashed it all in the brewery. Then you hacked into the Tribunal’s, the Council’s and the Assembly’s networks so you can life-stream the footage directly into them. And also streamed it on UnderTube and, oh my God, XXXUnderTube! I’m not going to even ask how you got access to an Undernet porn hub!” the Sheriff groaned. “Are you certain no one can trace it back to you?”

“Not the authorities, and not any third party.” Stiles assured. “But Peter Hale and Deucalion will figure it out. Combined with what I did at the school, and the mate bond with Ennis, they will know. But they will keep their traps shut. Derek also knows, I think he saw me or at least caught my scent at the school, and this will be a problem. If he decides to come after me directly, I’ll deal with it, but if he tattles to Talia, and I think he _will_ , well… Sorry, Dad. I outed us both. I thought…” Stiles face fell and tears pulled in his eyes.

“Hey, hey, hey!” John pulled his son back in his arms. “None of that, you hear me? Talia will find out, because I will confront her. I’m confronting all of them. You are right, kid, _this_ has to stop. Now, back to the story – am I missing something so far?”

“Yeah, you’re missing the part where I put remote-controlled explosives in every Hunter-owned vehicle I managed to get my hands on, and also some surveillance cameras to make sure the explosions won’t hurt anyone.”

“Yeah, that.” The Sheriff sighed. “I was kind of trying to forget about that. Are you sure the mundane investigation won’t find anything?”

“Nah,” Stiles waved his father’s concerns away, “I cleared all the scenes thoroughly with some humming magic and the feed of the cameras will lead them to an abandoned building and some blown up equipment. I was exceptionally thorough.”

“Okay, okay, you are the master of thorough, I get it” the Sheriff laughed. “So then you camped out into the brewery, pump yourself up with some high energy crap and fuckton on sweets, and when Gerard started killing people you stretched time, saved the wolves by bodily slamming into them and putting gas-mast on their faces – Jeez, kid, that must have hurt like a bitch – and shot Gerard and the remaining hunters to immobilize them and slow them down. The gun?”

“Untraceable, already disassembled and disposed of part by part on the way to the high school” Stiles answered promptly.

“Good. So you flue/flashed while time-stretching to the school and barely managed to get there in time, dislodged Paige from Ennis and got bitten by mistake in her stead.”

“I was getting out of the _timewarp_ and between _blinks_ for long enough to check the Hunter’s surveillance and make sure there was no one around the cars and blowing them up when I could on the way there, but yes, that’s it.” Stiles stubbornly refused to use proper terminology for his abilities.

John sighed.

“So, let me get this straight, Ennis gave you a turning, not a mating bite. Then how come you ended up mate-bonded to him?”

Stiles shrugged.

“My best guess is, when he recognized the taste of my blood, he used the bite to invade my mind – I mean he got _into_ my head – and force a mate-bond on me. Sorry, Dad, I tried to fight him, but he was too strong, plus, he appealed to Fate – I could sense it – and she granted him his wish.”

John face went stormy.

“So, basically, he mind-raped you!”

Stiles smiled viciously and waggled his eyebrows.

“No, he didn’t. I managed to block all his access but the one to my thoughts… And I have ADHD. If he tries to get into my head again I’ll drive him bonkers, the poor schmuck”.

The Sheriff laughed out loud at his son’s antics, but his main concern still stood.

“The mate bond still remains, though. A _forced_ mate bond.”

Stiles sighed.

“Yeah, there is that. But Dad, Ennis is not a bad guy. Arrogant, an asshole, but generally, not bad. He’s not a good guy, mind you, I’m not saying that at all. But if it was Peter on his place? I would have been seriously worried. Peter is a conniving underhanded son of a bitch, who would exploit everything and everyone for his personal gain. Ennis? He’s not… not that level of asshole. Honestly, I believe he panicked, when he found out he tried to turn his soul mate and forced the bond only in order to ensure I won’t reject the bite.”

“He must have figured out you are supernatural, though, and that the bite will simply fail.” John pointed out reasonably.

Stiles shrugged helplessly.

“Dad, you know how _timewarp_ is. People can hardly comprehend what’s going on and things happen with supernatural speed and intensity. I highly doubt he had time to stop and think through what just had happened. And he’s not that much of a thinker anyways. I bet he let his wolf loose on me, cos he couldn’t deal with the situation, and you know how the wolves are. All instinct, no thinking whatsoever, pure animalistic drive – and when it come to their mate it’s all “capture, secure, protect”.

“Are you defending him?” John was almost amused.

Stiles shrugged.

“Justifying him at least. He’s 36 years old, Dad, he and his wolf had waited for me for a long time.”

John eyebrows shot up.

“And yet you denied him the bond for over a year” he pointed out.

Stiles frowned.

“Dad! I’m _fifteen_! Just because I understand his reasoning does not mean I’m gonna go easy on him! I wasn’t intending to reveal myself to them until I was out of college at least! Do you honestly believe Ennis, or any one of them actually will let me go to college now? No, I’m supposed to be a demure and obedient alpha mate who would be staying at home and spreading his legs for his mates whenever they snap their fingers! This is going to be an uphill battle from the get go!”

John grinned ruefully at his son.

“Oh, trust me, kid, they _will_ let you go to college. They might follow you there, but you have your dad in your corner now. I can’t wait to inform Mr. Black that he is not allowed to lay a finger on you without proper courting and before you turn legal age.”

Stiles burst into giggles.

“They will all die of blue balls!”

At that point Ennis Black decided it was high time to get back to the Hale house. He needed to have a long, long talk with Peter and Deuc.

***

Stiles was rudely awaken in in the early hours of the morning by a severe pain in his arm that quickly consumed his entire body. When the pain finally subsided and Stiles came back to his senses, he found his dad hovering above him, worry written all over his face.

“Stiles!” John exclaimed. “You were screaming. What happened, kiddo?”

Stiles had pretty good idea what had happened, but wanted to make sure. He pulled up the sleeve of his night shirt up… And there, to his soul mark, two new symbols were added – the Hale one and the Blackwood one.

John sighed.

“Well, that was to be expected” Stiles grumbled. “They are mated now. But if they thing _this_ would give them a foothold into my life, they have another thing coming” he promised darkly.


	2. Part 2. What happens when you try to corner Stiles?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Sheriff is angry, Parish is protective, and Stiles wants a cattle-prod.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, everybody! Loved your comments and kudos, guys and gals, thank you so much for all of them! I’m afraid I’m not very good at answering comments, but trust me, I read every single one of them and they warm my hearth! You are awesome!  
> Here’s the next instalment in the story. I decided on posting now, because this chapter fought me hard, and honestly I had the worst time writing Peter, something that have never happened to me before. Hope I didn’t write myself into a corner with this one. Well, we’ll see, I already stated that Peter is not a very nice gay at this and has to learn a few valuable life lessons. On the other hand, loved writing Jordan&Stiles interactions! So, with no further ado… Here are some more psychotic hummingbirds for you, lovely people! Oh, someone fetch Stiles a cattle-prod.

Considering the eventful evening and night, and adding to that the early-morning incident, John Stilinski decided to let his son sleep in relatively late for Saturday. He went up to his son’s room at 11 a.m. with a mug of coffee to wake up his boy and check if the bite had healed overnight or not.

“You okay, kiddo?” John asked. His boy just groaned and tried to berry himself deeper into the bedding.

John smiled at his son’s antics, but then the smile slipped off his face, replaced by worry.

“Are you in pain?” he asked.

Stiles’ head surfaced to award his dad with a death glare.

“I feel like I have fallen over five flight of stairs!” he whined. “And not the fast way! It fills like I hit every single step going down. I’m sore all over Dad, even my eyelashes hurt, I want Tylenol.”

John shook his head.

“Let me see the bite wound, kiddo. If it is okay, we’re going to the hospital. You might need something stronger for the pain. Let’s see if the bite had healed.”

It apparently had, but – as all mating bites do – it had also scarred. It was an ugly scar and John cringed eternally just looking at it. Stiles grumbled and groused while his dad woke him up and manhandled him, but when he saw the scar Ennis had left went apeshit and cursed a blue streak non-stop for the next ten minutes. John could only sympathize. Stiles was really upset, and had every right to be. A mating bite on the hip would be a point of contempt for every werewolf who saw it. His son was going to be mocked and ridiculed and made fun of for the rest of his life, which made John incredibly angry. If it was up to him, he would have forbidden the Black Alpha to ever darkening their doorstep ever again. But he stifled his anger down – he would be dealing with the wolves later. Right now he needed to take his boy to the hospital for a thorough checkup.

Last night he had considered the real possibility of Stiles having an internal bleeding, but discarded it – his boy would have been far sicker and out of sorts if that was the case. This, however, does not exclude the possibility of bruised or damaged kidneys or liver or other internal organs, so Stiles was going to have to deal with the full body MRI scan, which, considering Stiles claustrophobia would be incredibly hard on the teenager.

Sometimes, especially when Stiles was little and was getting into all sorts of mischief while hadn’t gotten full grasp of his abilities, John lamented the lack of instant healing the werewolves and other ground dwelling were creatures had, but most of the time he would trade the super-healing for the time-stretch any day of the week. Super healing was all sorts of great and dandy, but stretching time would prevent one for getting hurt in the first place.

The visit to the hospital was far from pleasant for both of them, but Stiles surprised him with not outright refusing the MRI or protesting very much. When John commented on that his boy gave him a wobbly smile and shrugged.

“This is small price to pay for making sure one of _them_ survived, Dad. Just don’t let go of me while I’m in the tube, okay?”

 _Them_ , apparently being Stiles’ soul mates. It was painful for both of them, Stiles was spending the entire scan on the verge of full-blown panic attack and John – talking him down off it. John had to do some inventive bending the truth a little – okay, he lied his ass off – when Dr. Johnson saw the jagged scar of an obvious bite wound that hadn’t been on Stiles three months ago on his annual checkup and there was no written history or paperwork about Stiles being to the hospital or treated for – an obviously vicious – wound.

Both Stilinskies left the hospital with a sigh of relief and a prescription of some ointments that were supposed to help with the bruises.

When the cruiser parked on the curb of the Stilinski’s house, Jordan Parrish was already waiting for them on the porch.

Stiles beamed and jumped out of the car before it even stopped completely. John rolled his eyes at his son’s antics. It wasn’t like Stiles haven’t seen Jordan just yesterday.

“Haya, Jordy!” the teen chirped and bodily tackled the angel-faced deputy, despite his bruises. Jordan laughed and hugged back the enthusiastic teen carefully and proceeded to scent-mark him rubbing his cheek at his flock-mate’s temple.

“You high, kiddo?” he asked. Stiles’ pupils were blown wide.

“Yeah!” Stiles sighed, face berried in Jordan’s chest. “They gave me the good stuff.”

“You okay, though, right?” Jordan frowned down concerned for the kid who, for all intense and purposes he viewed as the little brother he never had the chance to have.

“He’s fine” John called from the cruiser. “Bruised to all Hell, but nothing’s damaged.”

“Good” Jordan was still frowning.

Stiles pulled away and looked up, giving his big bro his best puppy dog eyes.

“Do I smell like a wet dog now, Jordy?” he asked, almost imploring with his eyes for the answer to be a ‘no’. “Cora Hale says if one gets a mating bite from a werewolf they start smelling like a wet dog.”

Deputy Parrish laughed, but reassured the stoned teen.

“No, Stiles, you don’t smell like a wet dog. You smell like you. The Big Bad Alpha biting you didn’t change your scent whatsoever. Now, go inside and lock the door behind you while your Dad and I go deal with the fur balls.”

Stiles giggled.

“You’re a fur ball too!” he reasonably pointed out.

“Yes, but I’m a fiery fur ball.” Jordan grinned down at the teen, as the Sheriff approached.

“Go lay down for a bit, son” John gently prodded. “Watch a movie or something. Jordan and I are going to visit the Hale House now.”

Stiles looked up at his father, and hidden between the two men, smiled viciously.

“Divide and conquer?” he whispered much more lucidly.

“Divide and conquer” John nodded back quietly enough so the werewolf lurking at the end of the street wouldn’t hear.

“Okay, Daddy-O!” Stiles chirped in his normal volume and bounded up the stairs. He unlocked the door and turned around to beam at his two favorite people in the world “Love you, Dad, be safe! Love you, Jordy, be safe!” and slammed the door.

John patted his deputy on the shoulder.

“You’re a good big brother to him, Parrish. And a good son too.”

Jordan Parish blushed furiously at the compliment. Those moments of recognition of their flock bond was rare, but he cherished every single one of them. The Sheriff had become not just his mentor in the Supernatural world, and after he joined the man’s flock – he become Jordan’s Flock Leader. But it went further than that, John Stilinski had become the father figure in Jordan’s life, the father figure he never had and never even realize he craved so desperately. Not for the first time Jordan Parrish wondered if the Stilinski men were aware about the love and loyalty they inspired into the people they considered theirs. He could see it clearly into the other deputies’ eyes, and in the case of Stiles – in Erika’s, Isaac’s and Boyd’s.

Then his face darkened.

“Let’s go deal with some wolves” he gritted through clenched teeth.

 

***

 

At the end of the street Peter Hale watched the two officers in full uniform get into the cruiser and drive away – probably toward the Hale House.

He sent a quick message toward his fellow soul mates “Sheriff on warpath incoming” and finally, finally proceeded to approach his young soul mate.

He had stalked the Stilinskies’ house since seven a.m., and proceeded to followed the Stilinski the whole day, waiting for the chance to approach his intended.

He could only applaud the Fate’s choice. The boy was _delicious_! Big, whisky brown eyes, long eyelashes; pink, bow-shaped, kissable lips - he could just imagine some very inappropriate places for those lips! Pale, creamy skin, specked by beauty marks; fine, almost ethereal features – Jesus, the boy was beautiful! And this light body, those long limbs – the boy was Peter’s wet dream come true! He couldn’t wait to get his hands on the boy.

Peter strutted down the street whit his confident, predatory gate, almost jumped up the three stairs of the porch and knocked at the door.

The door opened and a pair of startled, honey-brown eyes looked up at him.

“You must be Stiles” Peter purred, saccharinely sweet.

The door slammed in his face, but the werewolf only chuckled. This little piggy had nowhere to run. He just have to huff and puff and the sweet little morsel would be his…

***

Stiles outright refused to panic. Stiles Stilinski never, ever, in his entire life had panicked under pressure, and he refused to start now. Fuck! Stiles had miscalculated! What the fuck had gone wrong? After the mating wolves craved the closeness of their mate!

“Come on, Little One, open the door for your soul mate, Sweet thing” sang the velvety smooth voice of one Peter Hale, who was most definitely not Ennis Black. Where the fuck was Ennis and why the fuck Peter Hale was at his door?

 “This is private property and you are trespassing!” Stiles yelled through the wood. Wait, why was he yelling? The Hale had werewolf hearing.

“I’m afraid I can’t do that, my lovely. You are my mate, the Fate hand-picked you for me, and now that I’ve found you, I’m never letting you out of my sight ever again.” the wolf crooned.

Stiles narrowed his eyes.

“Oh, really?” he asked.

“Yes, really,” the wolf assured him, honey dripping from his every word “Let me look at your delicious body, you tasty treat! Please open the door for your mate!” Peter added seductively.

Stiles’ uneasiness grew, but he would be damned if he let the wolf know he was unnerving him.

“This door is the only thing that separate me from a high functioning sociopath, and I can only thank my good fortune you _don’t_ have my number” Stiles retorted sarcastically, forcing himself to sound cheery and unbothered. “Now go away!” he added for good measure.

“Quoting ‘Sherlock’ at me? You wound me, Stiles” came the werewolf’s voice “I’m much more handsome than Benedict Cumberbatch!”

Stile’s pulse was gradually picking up and he was sure the wolf could hear it.

“Point to you for getting that reference.” He shouted again. Why was he shouting? “Go the fuck away!”

“Such a foul language! I’m not going anywhere without you! Come, Ennis and Deuc await us” the wolf stated.

Stiles looked down at his hands – they were shaking. He forced himself to sound non-plus, but he knew that sooner or later his scent will reach Peter even through the door. Shit!

“You’re such a drama queen, Peter! And a very bad actor I might add. Do us all a favor and revert to your usual asshole self!” yelled the teen hiding behind his sarcasm.

“But it’s just you and me here, Stiles, you, me and the door that divide us, the door you need to open, my sweet, sweet boy, so we can be together forever more!”

Stiles was officially unnerved and creeped out now. Why wouldn’t the fucking Hale just go away!

“Is this your idea of courtship? If it is, I must say, you have to step up your game, because this is pathetic!” he yelled. It was better to redirect his emotions toward anger. If he was angry enough Stiles wouldn’t feel scared.

“Sweet boy, I know exactly how to court you. I’ll bring you the moon and the stars on a silver platter! I’ll bring you an unimaginable ecstasy! Ennis and Deuc and I will take such good care of you! We know how to treat a treasure like you. All you need to do is open that door and come with me,” the wolf cajoled, and then because Peter Hale was _Peter_ Hale he added conversationally ”by the way, did you know werewolves have knots in their beta shift?”

“Well, I’m not going anywhere _with_ you after that tit-bit of info, that’s for sure” Stiles murmured to himself but the wolf on his steps had heard him.

“Oh, but you are, Sweetheart, you are!” the crooning voice was grating on Stiles nerves. “And you realize a mere wooden door won’t keep me from my prize, don’t you? Our other two mates are waiting for us at the Hale House. All three of us can’t wait to fill you with our pups and plug you up! Too bad we can’t actually get you pregnant, but believe me, Sweetheart, we will enjoy trying so much! It’s time to go and meet your mates, Boy!”

Okay, Stiles was officially done! The teen look at his reflection in the mirror, his eyes changed to the midnight black for a second before reverting to honey-brown again and he nodded to himself.

“All right” he muttered. “Change of plans.”

His Dad was going to kill him. Or not. He let his bird out and grinned evilly at his reflection.

***

The Hale House was buzzing in frantic activity. Not only the Hale Pack, but their guests and allies were on damage control, everybody with even a smidgen of authority were on their phones, assuring the various Council and Assembly members, allied or acquainted Packs all over the U.S. that the Hale Pack and allies had the current _situation_ under control. Andrew Hale had just gotten off the phone after a particularly nerve-grading conversation with Alpha Thompson from Oregon, who had long ago had set his sights on Beacon Hills and was trying to spin the whole story in a manner that would put the Hales in bad light as incompetent to handle such a prominent land. The conversation had escalated quickly and the Oregon bastard was threatening to challenge the Blackwood pack for their land to gain a foothold in California, closer to Beacon, closer to the Nematon.

So it was Andrew, who needed to calm down after the call – he was the Pack’s peacemaker for God’s sake – who registered the approach of the vehicle on the driveway. A glance through the window revealed it was the Sheriffs cruiser. Andrew watched in bemusement Sheriff Stilinski and Deputy Parrish exiting the vehicle and approaching the door.

He had time enough to wonder what this was all about before the knock came.

Apparently, everybody else but the Hale children were busy, so it was up to him to open the door. He was met with two stony expressions from the two officers. Andrew frowned, bewildered but greeted the men pleasantly non-the-less.

“Sheriff, Deputy. How can I help you?”

And then the rage both men were subtly emitting registered.

“I have business with Alpha Black, Alpha Blackwood and Peter Hale. Be so kind to inform them the Sheriff needs to see them _now_.” John Stilinski’s words were cold as ice and sent shivers through Andrew’s spine. And then the full implication of the Sheriff’s words registered and Andrew’s jaw dropped. The Sheriff had business with the _Alphas_ and his brother in law. He… he... he knew what they were?! But _how_!

“I… I…” he stuttered in a loss of words and blushed deeply in embarrassment. The Sheriff raised one eyebrow in an unimpressed look.

Andrew gulped audibly.

“This is not a very good time, and my brother in law is not here at the moment” he managed to stammer. The Sheriff and the deputy exchanged a glance - and was that a spark of worry in their eyes? -, which gave Andrew the time needed to compose himself somewhat. “May I ask what is…”

“Get the flee-bags that are in residence out here, then” the Sheriff barked, interrupting him and drawing the attention of every werewolf in the house. “You have exactly three minutes!”

And with those words the Sheriff and the Deputy turned their backs to him and strolled to the cruiser to wait.

 _Peter Hale was the wolf at the house, not Ennis_ the Sheriff sent to Jordan through their flock bond.

 _The whole plan was banking on Ennis_ _confronting Stiles_ Jordan commented. _You said newly mated wolves had the need to be in close proximity to their mate. Why is he here?_

 _No idea. And Stiles has the bond shut down. And he is wary of Peter Hale,_ The Sheriff sent back.

 _Nothing new there – when is Stiles’ bond ever open? And he’s completely capable of taking care of himself._ Jordan tried to reassure his boss and flock leader.

 _May I remind you we left him high as a kite at the house?_ The Sheriff sent wryly.

 _Which only makes him more dangerous_ was Jordan’s retort, which – true that.

Meanwhile there was flurry of activity on the Hales part then, conversation and phone calls were cut short and in the span of minutes every werewolf in the house above the age of fifteen had gathered in the yard, lined up in front of the house, facing the two law-men, eyes blazing at the insult. Talia in particular was trembling with rage. Her animosity toward the Sheriff due to their work in the judicial system was well known.

Ennis, Deucalion, Kali, Julia Baccari, Maren Morell and Alan Deaton were the last to exit the house.

Kali and the three Emissaries stopped at the line of furious Hales, but Deucalion and Ennis took several steps further.

The eyes of the Sheriff bore into the eyes of Ennis, ignoring the Blackwood Alpha for the moment. The tension in the air was so thick one could cut it with a knife.

Both men stared at each other with such intensity that the other occupants of the yard shifted uncomfortably and lost some of their antagonistic demeanor.

John Stilinski broke the silence first.

“Do you know why I am here?” he asked coldly.

Ennis Black just nodded.

“So,” the Sheriff’s voice dripped with disdain “are we doing this man-to-man, or are we doing this through the Council?”

The low murmur of disbelief swept through the line of the Hales.

Ennis eyes blazed crimson red in challenge.

“Man-to-man” he gritted.

The Sheriff’s face split into a victorious, vicious smile. And then in answer, his eyes shifted completely black, drawing out gasp of surprise and alarm from the Hale pack. Ennis promptly wolfed out to face the threat.

And it was like the events Deucalion witnessed the previous night. One moment the Sheriff was standing proud facing the assembled wolves, the next – there was a smoking gun in his hand. The gunshot registered the same moment Ennis roared and staggered - one knee shattered by a bullet in such a manner that it would take him days to heal the broken bones and tore muscles and dislodged cartridge and ligaments – instead of mere hours.

Every wolf in the yard had wolfed out but were too stunned by the Sheriff’s display of power to do anything else.

The silence that fall over the wolves and apparently not-so-human law enforcement officers – Jordan Parrish’s entire body was engulfed in flames and his eyes were burning bright orange - was deafening. Then John spoke.

“This is for biting my son without consent”.

And then another flash – later Deucalion parsed what was actually happening, apparently the Sheriff was stretching time – and Ennis’s second knee was shattered and the man fall on the ground. All the wolves growled at the unknown threat, but… An Alpha was brought down to his knees, in front of his allies and his pack members, by an unknown… And… Ennis had bitten someone - the Sheriff’s kid? That was absurd, wasn’t it? But… But Ennis had chosen the Sheriff’s man-to-man offer, didn’t he? Instead of going to the Council – which meant he _knew_ he was in the wrong, and the Sheriff’s absurd accusation was actually very real.

“And this is for forcing the Mating Bond on my son without consent or even proper courting” the Sheriff spoke coldly and… What???

The Sheriff waited for his words to sink in for every were present, and when Maren opened her mouth to speak – another flash silenced her – and Ennis’s body was thrown a few feet back and convulsed on the ground, by the force of several bullets hitting his torso at the _same time_.

“And this is because I felt like it,” The Sheriff gritted through his teeth. “, and the next time you even look at my son wrong, the bullets will be in your skull, not in your body – mates or not. You. Do. Not. Touch. My. Kid. Are we clear?” he roared, and his hair… his hair was turning black in some sort of partial shift.

No one uttered a word.

“I asked you a question!” John Stilinski demanded. “Are we clear?”

“We are clear” Ennis gritted out through the pain.

The Sheriff gave a jerky nod then and put the gun back in his holster, pulled up some papers and approached Deucalion. Which – what? The whole Hale pack and the other wolves in attendance were completely baffled. There were some growls from around the yard, but the Sheriff seemed unfazed by them, and besides – the wolves sounded more unsure and agitated than threatening. Meanwhile Kali, Julia and Maren rushed to tend to Ennis, Talia stood rigid, red eyes blazing at the intruder, but not uttering a word, because… because evidently one of her allies had bitten the Sheriff’s son without consent and forcefully mated the boy. They were in the wrong. All of them were in the wrong here, no matter how they tried to spin the story… when they got it out of Ennis, and judging by his reactions – Deucalion, and apparently Peter as well.

The Sheriff meanwhile trusted the papers at Deucalion who cautiously took them, not braking eye contact with the man.

“Stiles’ medical bill from this morning. His whole body is bruised to hell and we did an MRI scan to see if there is any internal damage.” The Sheriff decided to have mercy on the wary Alpha and explain. “Considering he got those bruises saving your ass, I think it’s only fair you cover the bill, don’t you think? Oh, and there is a receipt for the gas-masks. You’re paying for those as well.”

Incredulous and startled gasps came from all around them.

Deucalion’s face however lost its stony demeanor and changed into a genuine worry.

“Is Stiles all right?” he asked softly.

“They got him on the good drugs, so he’s not in pain at least.” The Sheriff allowed. “He’ll be out of school the next week and it’ll be couple of more weeks for the bruises to heal.”

And then all wolves’ heads snapped toward the road. Seconds later even the humans could hear the awful sound of a clunk of a jeep revving down above the speed limit and spewing gravel in all directions.

“Oh, _shit_!” Jordan swore with feeling and in the next moment a baby-blue jeep came barreling down toward the gathering with at least 50 mph, dangerously swerving like it was driven by a drunk.

“Stiles!” the Sheriff bellowed, jumping back as everybody scatter away from the path of the gravel spray, Kali dragging Ennis with her. What the Hell his kid was doing here? And driving in his condition! That was not the plan! What the fuck had happened at the house?

The jeep stopped to an abrupt halt a single foot from the cruiser, then a gangly teen - dressed in sweats and ripped t-shirt under which the black and blue bruises were clearly visible - jumped out the driver’s seat brandishing a baseball bat, opened the back door, and … Oh My God!... dragged out the bound and gagged and very unconscious Peter Hale by the back of his shirt, dropped him to the ground and kicked him in the head - in front of the entire Hale pack. Every single person could smell the youth’s fury – and see it written all over his face.

“Stiles!” the Sheriff yelled.

Stiles whirled toward his father and yelled back.

“This one is a fucking pedophile! This one – “the bat pointed at the gaping Ennis" - is a fucking rapist, and this one“ – this time the bat pointed at Deucalion – “is best friends with a rapist and a pedophile! I want a fucking refund!”

And then it all clicked for Talia Hale. She was so startled from the sudden revelation that she lost her partial shift for a second. The Sheriff’s son was soul mates with Ennis, Deucalion and _her brother_?!? Jesus!

Deputy Parish put his flames away, strode to the kid, disarmed him and grabbed him into a hug, in front of the whole stunned-silent gathering.

“You’re all right” he murmured in the boy’s hair, trying to calm him “You’re okay.”

“No, I’m not!” Stiles protested. “I’m high as a kite right now! And this piece of shit…” the boy gestured widely toward the unconscious Peter “… decided to approach me, at _my_ house, while I’m under the influence of heavy-duty painkillers, when I’m alone and vulnerable! Do I fucking smell like pray, Jordy? Why the fuck every wolf in this god forsaken town thinks they can fuck with my head?”

The youth was almost in hysterics.

“Did he touch you?” the Sheriff demanded. “Did he do something to you?”

Stiles was still clutching to the charred remains of Jordan’s shirt while he answered his dad.

“No. He knocked at the door, and leered at me, and when I slammed the door in his face and told him that he was trespassing on private property and to get the hell out, he refused. And made some really inappropriate remarks, and bad innuendoes.” The teen shuddered in the deputy’s arms, then turned to look his father in the eyes.

“Dad, he’s creeping creeper who creeps, and I don’t feel safe with him creeping on me! I want to file a restraining order! We got the whole incident on tape, it is grounds for a restraining order, right?”

Oh, dear God, the brother of the District attorney with a restraining order filed against him, this was the last thing the Hale pack needed.

“I don’t want him anywhere near me, Dad! He’s crazy and creepy and I don’t want to look over my shoulder every second of every day! We are filing for the restraining order! And I want a cattle-prod!” ranted Stiles.

The entire Hale family was stunned speechless and the weres from the other packs were not far behind, and Stiles continued ranting at his dad like they were only the three of them – John, Jordan and Stiles – at the Stilisnski’s house, in their living room.

“We should file a report, Dad, a police report! He’s dangerous! He approached me while I’m drugged up to the gills! This is a text-book pedophile behavior! God knows what could have happened! He’s probably into the habit of ruffying kid’s drinks and molesting them! He should not be allowed to be around children!”

The Sheriff gave the gaping Deucalion an unreadable look and went to calm down his kid.

“You’re alright, though, right? He didn’t touch you or anything?” he placed a soothing hand on his son’s shoulder.

“Yeah, right!” Stiles snorted. “I may be high, but I’m not helpless!”

“Did he threaten you in any manner? Did he said anything can be construed as a threat?” the Sheriff asked.

“He said I shouldn’t leave my window open at night and that one can’t know who can decide to pay me a visit while I’m sleeping” Stiles grumbled. “And also said a simple glass windows or door locks are not much of a deterrent for a person determined to get to me. Dad, I want a cattle-prod! And a barb wire on my window! On every window in the house! And bear traps! Can we buy some bear traps too and place them around the house? And I’m sleeping with a tazer under my pillow and at least two knives under my bed! Do we have enough knives in the house? I want at least four knives stashed in every room! And I want a cattle-prod! And a restraining order! And I want him on the sex-offender’s list, like yesterday!”

The Sheriff pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Stiles, he is your soul mate, we can’t put him on the sex-offender’s list!” he tried to reason with his offspring. “You know how the wolves are about their mates! I’m sure he wasn’t thinking clearly and didn’t mean to scare you. He just wanted to be near his mate, kiddo, nothing else!”

By the startled gasps coming from the Hale pack members, John concluded that the Black, the Blackwood and the Hale had yet to share this tit-bit of information with their packs and allies.

Stiles flailed wildly.

“Dad, he wants to breed me and knot me! Do you understand how creepy this is?!” he exclaimed “He’s twice my age! Twice! I’m a minor! I just started high school! And the things he said to me, God, It was creepy and gross and all kinds of disgusting! And it’s not just him! This one…” Stiles pointed at Deucalion “, is even older, and the other one…” he gestured widely at the general direction Ennis was watching the spectacle “… is old enough to be my _father_! It is all kinds of gross and inappropriate and all kinds of wrong!”

The Sheriff sighed.

“Stiles, you know the things are different when it comes to wolf law…”

“But I’m not subject of wolf law. Dad, I’m a minor! The age of consent is there for a reason! I can be subjected to all kinds of emotional and mind manipulations! I’m a virgin, for Christ sake, which mean I’ll imprint on the one who takes it! They will turn me into their sex toy! Dad, this is sex trafficking! I want a cattle prod!” Stiles ranted.

“Stiles” John tried to soot his boy, “this is not sex trafficking! No one is turning you into a sex toy! Wolves are just different!”

“Well, I am different too! Wait! If I am subject to wolf law just because I’m supposed to be mated to them, they should be subjected to avian law because they are mated to me! Wait, no, avian shifters don’t have unified law. They should be subjected to _our_ flock’s law! Dad, we are making a flock law – no one is allowed to perv on Stiles until it doesn’t feel pervy anymore! Jesus! I want a cattle-prod!”

John Stilinski looked at the gathered wolves and met every Alpha’s gaze.

“This discussion is not over” he addressed them darkly and then turned to his son.

“Let’s get you home, kiddo, you need to lie down” he gently tried to extract his son from Jordan but Stiles clang tighter.

“But I want a…”

“Yes, yes” the Sheriff interrupted his offspring. “You want a cattle-prod. How about Jordan here drives you in your jeep home, and I’ll swing by the All-buy to get you a cattle-prod. How about that? Or we can get you one on the Internet?”

Stiles shook his head vehemently, but let go of Jordan’s shirt.

“No, the Internet will take too long. I want the cattle-prod now. Jordy will drive me home and you go to the All-buy” and the gangly kid persuaded to stumble toward his jeep.

The Sheriff turned to Talia for a last word.

“Before your Emissary decides to approach me about the territory issue, Alpha Hale, let me remind you what’s written in your werewolf law books: ‘The Sky does not rule the Land, and the Land does not rule the Sky’. The land of Beacon Hills is your pack’s territory. The skies of Beacon Hills are my flock’s. Good day”. And with that the two lawman entered the vehicles and drove away, leaving one unconscious, bound and gagged werewolf behind.

“Jesus!” Deucalion exhaled stare fixed in the baby-blue jeep caring his mate away.  

“I told you he was mental” Ennis grunted.

“Who?” Kali asked.

“Both of them.” Ennis nodded at the direction the two vehicles had disappeared. “And the fire starter’s just a bonus, apparently.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time: Stiles on drugs verbally kicking some Argent ass… … because he doesn’t have his cattle-prod yet.

**Author's Note:**

> Ages and occupations of the main characters:  
> Stiles Stilinski – 15, High school freshmen;  
> Allison Argent – 16, High school freshmen;  
> Cora Hale – 15, High school freshmen;  
> Derek Hale – 17, High school senior;  
> Paige Krasikeva – 17, High school senior;  
> Laura Hale – 24, Law firm intern;  
> Christopher Argent – 44, Arms Dealer;  
> John Stilinski – 46, Sheriff of Beacon Hills;  
> Jordan Parish – 28, Sheriff’s Deputy  
> Peter Hale – 31, lawyer;  
> Deucalion Blackwood – 34, lawyer;  
> Ennis Black – 36, bar owner and head of a biker’s club;  
> Talia Hale – 42, District Attorney for Beacon Hills  
> Andrew Hale – 45 High school Principle
> 
> Stiles shifts into Rufous Hummingbird.  
> John Stilinski shifts into Black-chinned hummingbird.  
> I understand that it’s kind of confusing when I write that certain people have easily recognizable soul marks. Soul mark symbols in this universe are hereditary. One can inherit their soul mark symbol from one of his parents. In case of the Hales, Blackwoods, Blacks and other family oriented packs, usually the pack takes their soul mark symbol for the pack’s crest or emblem. So the Triscalion is actually the Hale soul mark symbol that the Hale pack adapted to the Hale’s crest. Same with Blackwood symbol, the Argent crest and the Black symbol. The soul mark usually is the two (or three or however) symbols - combined. If a person has a black soul mark, their soul mate is from the opposite gender. If the soul mark is white, the soul mates are the same gender. I don’t mean to be insensitive here and offend anyone, the soul-mark refers to what biological equipment one soulmates is born with. A person can be gender-fluid, but they have male or respectively – female genitals, which is represented in their soul mark. Ones again I want to stress that in this AU the soul-marks are pointing only toward biological attributes and not to anyone’s sense of self. I’m sorry If someone finds this insensitive or offensive.  
> Also, in this AU were-creature and shifters can also recognize their mates by scent. On the other hand, certain types of shifters, mainly avian shifters can mask/hide their scent and this is the reason Ennis, Peter and Deuc hadn’t found out Stiles is their mate yet. Humans feel subconsciously a pull toward their soul mate and feel the need to get closer to them. Magic users have their own means of finding their soul mates.
> 
> Please comment and let me know what you think of my new fic and what you like/dislike in this AU.


End file.
